As homeward bent to kiss his prattling babes, II. When Phebus finks behind the gilded hills, The panting Dryads, that in day's fierce heat IV. To the deep wood the clamourous rooks repair, Light skims the swallow o'er the watry scene; And from the sheep-cote, and fresh furrow'd-field, Stout ploughmen meet, to wrestle on the Green. མ. The fwain, that artlefs fings on yonder rock, Now every Paffion fleeps: defponding Love, O modeft EVENING! oft let me appear BY O DE ΤΟ EVENING. MR. WILLIAM COLLINS. Fought of oaten ftop, or paftoral fong, Thy springs, and dying gales, O Nymph referv'd, while now the bright-hair'd fun O'erhang his wavy bed: Nor air is hufh'd, fave where the weak-ey'd bat, With short shrill fhriek flits by on leathern wing, Or where the beetle winds His fmall but fullen horn, As oft he rifes 'midft the twilight path, To breath fome foften'd ftrain, Whofe numbers ftealing thro' thy dark'ning vale, May not unfeemly with it's ftillness fuit, Thy genial lov'd return! For when thy folding ftar arising fhews His paly circlet, at his warning lanıp Who flept in flow'rs the day, And many a Nymph who wreaths her brows with fedge, And sheds the fresh'ning dew, and lovelier still, The Penfive Pleasures fweet Prepare thy fhadowy car. Then lead, calm Vot'refs, where fome fheety lake Cheers the lone heath, or fome time-hallow'd pile, Or up-land fallows grey Reflect it's laft cool gleam. But when chill bluft'ring winds, or driving rain, Views wilds, and fwelling floods, And hamlets brown, and dim-difcover'd spires, The gradual dusky veil. While fpring fhall pour his fhow'rs, as oft he wont, And bathe thy breathing treffes, meekeft Eve! While Summer loves to sport, Beneath thy ling'ring light: While fallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves; And rudely rends thy robes; |